When I
by PoppyPotter
Summary: A one shot on the life of Lily Evans.


**When I...**

**A one shot on the life of Lily Evans**

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><p>Life doesn't always work out the way you plan. You don't become what you planned to, you make different choices; the ones you really didn't think you would, you fall in love with someone who really, logically you should hate and then one day you look back and you think about how everything is so different, how those plans you made when you were a child, and there were a lot (artist, teacher, actress), fell apart.<p>

Life doesn't always go the way you planned, it's unpredictable and can take you and turn your life completely upside down and yet somehow, sometimes you find upside down might just be the right way up.

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><p>When I was five I wanted to be a ballerina. It was useless; I was far too clumsy and much too impatient to last one lesson.<p>

When I was seven and a half I wanted to be a lawyer. Mum had told me to put my toys away and get ready for bed. I gave her very good and long reasoning of why I should be allowed to stay up. She said; _"with a mouth like that you'll be a lawyer"_. It stuck.

By the time I was nine and had met Severus Snape all I wanted was to be a witch. For it all not to be a lie.

When I was eleven, dreams became a reality. I was a witch.

I wanted to be in the same house as Sev.

I wasn't.

I wanted to be the best in my year.

I wasn't.

And it wasn't because of a lack of trying; I excelled in some subjects, the charms teacher adored me and the potions master practically jumped up in joy every time I completed a concoction. Other subjects were... _different._ I was good, one of my professors would tell, the best.

But the best, well, the best of the best were Sirius Black and James Potter. I hated them. And not just because of test scores. They were annoying, bratty, arrogant…

In short, everything I hated.

When I was eleven, in a fit of anger I made a wish that James potter would just die already.

When, two weeks later, he wound up in the hospital wing, after he and his friends had decided to experiment with something or the other I cried myself to sleep.

And when the next day he still wasn't back in class, and Sirius Black barely smiled once I made an excuse and ran to the hospital wing.

He was asleep. I prayed there for James Potter to live a long life.

When a week later, he left the hospital wing, I heard him tell a friend he could have sworn he had been visited by an angel.

I snorted and went back to hating his guts.

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><p>In second year, I wanted to be Alice Gryffin. Alice Gryffin was two years older than me and in my humble twelve year old opinion, simply amazing. She was beautiful and smart and kind. She was also a Hufflepuff and one of the most well - known and loved girls in Hogwarts. She was there when you needed help; she stood up for anyone, and somehow she managed to keep up perfect grades.<p>

She also had Frank Longbottom.

Frank Longbottom was a dream; he had soft blond hair (not the kind of Peter Pettigrew) the kind that sat _just right_. His eyes were a light blue, like calm skies that were very easy for an innocent girl to get lost in.

Not that I would know, you see Frank Longbottom was and always had been, eternally in love with Alice Gryffin.

I didn't want Frank, I wanted _a_ Frank.

I wanted to, one day, have a boyfriend that would love me, that would make my face light up when I saw him.

I wanted to be smart, and pretty and kind and popular.

I wanted to be Alice Gryffin.

I didn't know one day I would get that popularity; I would hate it. I didn't know beauty could be a curse as much as a blessing. I didn't know kindness could be taken advantage off; I didn't know it could be a biggest weakness and a greatest strength.

One day, I would find someone who loved me more than the world itself. He wasn't what I dreamt of; he didn't have soft blond curls or cool blue eyes, he wasn't softly spoken, and he didn't have a quiet sort of humour... He _wasn't_ Frank Longbottom. He was loud and funny and yes, kind and popular and looked up to but he really, _really_ wasn't Frank Longbottom.

It was OK though, because I, I wasn't Alice Gryffin.

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><p>When I was thirteen, I wanted to be older, wiser, prettier… I was too short, had too much puppy fat, my hair was a mess of red and my constant need to argue had put me in to a few tight situations.<p>

My cheek seemed to have grown, sarcastic comments became second nature, and much to be horror, my temper (which had been short to begin with) suddenly become volatile; _did Potter really have to rumple his hair every minute?_

It was the age of _growing up_, of spending more than just one minute in front of the mirror, because... _Merlin was that a spot?_

Needless to say I wanted time to speed up.

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><p>When I was fourteen mum got cancer.<p>

Being doused with ice cold water, that's what it was like- a rude awakening to the harsh reality of the world.

I decided I wanted to be a healer.

The_ best_ healer there was.

When she died six months later, I cried myself to sleep every night. Eventually the tears ran out, the pain didn't.

I decided I would still be a healer; I would stop anyone feeling what I felt.

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><p>When I was fifteen I wanted to turn back the clocks. I wanted Severus and I to be close like we once were. I wanted to speak to him, to know who he was. <em>Who I was. <em>I wanted things to be easy, but promises made in sunlit gardens in childhood don't seem to last.

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><p>When I was sixteen I wanted to escape; death followed us, tormented us, danced in front of our faces- newspapers were covered with haunting faces and grim headlines. I was scared and so I did the only thing I could; I pretended it wasn't happening, I pretended Severus hadn't said <em>that<em>, Mulciber hadn't tried to hex me, I pretended I lived in a world free of war.

You can only pretend for a time though before reality hits and then, then you have to face the storm...

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><p>By seventeen I had had enough, seen enough, felt enough, I wanted to <em>fight<em>. I wanted to break the walls confining me and make a difference; I wanted to stop 'MISSING' notices in the paper, and whispers of attacks. I wanted to stop deaths.

I found love that year and with it hope and courage and somehow, myself.

I fell in love with James Potter.

Rude, arrogant, bratty Potter.

Strange, how things happen sometimes isn't it?

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><p>At eighteen I wanted the perfect wedding. I got it. It was small, but beautiful. A garden wedding like I'd always dreamed; filled with floral scents and soft roses. My maid of honour was my best friend, my sister didn't attend.<p>

I wore a classic white dress, he wore new dress robes, his best friend gave a speech that somehow managed to make a tear slip down my face.

I walked to Wagner and we danced to the Beatles.

There were old friends and smiles, laughter and the odd tear.

I was about to take my dance with the best man when it happened. The bright white patronus, bounced in, an unwelcome guest and with five words the dream was suspended and reality hit; _"attack in Wembley- help needed"_ we went of course, in war when duty calls you go, wedding or not.

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><p>When I was nineteen I wanted to stop being scared.<p>

I was scared that I would lose myself. I had killed. I had cursed. I had watched men keel over in pain, I had seen and felt the cruciatus curse, I had fought and fought and _fought._

I didn't know who I was anymore.

Who was this person that could point a wand at another and not even flinch, not even waver for a second?

I was scared I would lose the little friends I had left.

I was scared I would lose James. That they would kill him, the greatest thing to happen to me.

I was scared it would never end.

I was scared because I was nineteen and I had just found out I was pregnant.

I was scared because I was bringing a child into a war and I had not a clue what to do.

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><p>At twenty I just wanted to be the perfect mother.<p>

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><p>At twenty-one I wanted to protect.<p>

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><p>I wish I made it to twenty-two.<p>

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><p><strong>AN: I found this saved on my laptop today and after doing ( a lot) of editing decided to post it. I have no idea what inspired it and truthfully I can only vaguely remember writing it but I really, really hope you enjoyed it! If you did (and even if you didn't) please, please leave a review and let me know what you think, they are much, much appreciated :)**

**To anyone reading my other fic, Meeting the Marauders- I'm half way through the next chapter, so fingers crossed another chapter shouldn't be too far away. :D**


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